


Sleep tight

by bucciaratissun



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Home Invasion, Kidnapping, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Obsession, Rape/Non-con Elements, Stalking, Yandere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:40:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25037125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bucciaratissun/pseuds/bucciaratissun
Summary: You know someone tried to break into your apartment, but no one believes you since you live in the very same building as famous Captain America. Who is willing to risk it?Please consider the tags before reading.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 26
Kudos: 209





	1. Chapter 1

You were coming back from work late again, carrying a paper bag with fresh chicken nuggets, French fries and two butter croissants you intended to leave for the morning. It was your little ritual - every time you worked long hours you went to buy some fast food afterwards instead of cooking youself a dinner. You had neither strength nor desire to spend your evening in the kitchen.

Funny, you thought, how many people were walking the same street as you, and you felt like you were alone in the whole world, nonetheless. Every day was exactly the same: you were waking up feeling groggy and exhausted, making youself coffee and leaving for work where you spent most of your time; you looked for excuses to stay late just because you didn’t want to come back to your empty apartment where it was always eerie silent. Then you read some book you ordered from Amazon or Indigo, had a glass of water and went to sleep. Your life was like an endless limbo or a time loop.

Watching a few school girls giggling and taking out there cellphones and cameras, you sighed. That poor Steve Rogers living the same building as you had it much, much worse. At least you didn’t have any crazy fans following you and making photos of your windows, hoping to catch a glimpse of you.

“Hey you there! What are you doing?” Someone’s grumpy voice cut through the silence, and all those girls suddenly ran, laughing nervously and clenching their cameras.

It was one of your neighbors, a man in his 60s who was living two floors beneath yours, who walked to the building with a grocery bag in his hand.

“I swear to God next time I’m gonna take their phones and call their parents right away!” He grunted, shaking his bold head.

“I’ll be there to give you a hand, Mr. Jones.” You smiled at him, and he let out a chuckle, opening the door for you. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, dear.”

Well, today wasn’t that bad. Those girls couldn’t do much harm. You remembered the day when you saw huge scary men dressed in black walking the corridor to Captain’s apartment - it was way more frightening than a couple of silly students making photos of his balkony. But, regardless of how dangerous it could be to live so close to probably America’s most famous superhero, the rent was doubled in a week and became three times higher in two months. You were lucky your landlady was a very compassionate woman who didn’t raise the price immediately after he moved in this building.

Opening the door to your apartment with a key, you took off your shoes and put the bag on a little side table. God, you wanted to sleep so bad.

Barely eating a few nuggets you went to bed without opening the new book you bought.

The next morning you didn’t feel much better, though. It was like you went to bed at 5 am instead of retiring early. Your mind was hazy. You were almost squiffy though you hadn’t been drinking alcohol for a month or so.

Damn, you needed to do something about that lifestyle of yours. It was obviously unhealthy.

You spent one more day in the office doing useless work no one cared about. Coming back home felt as lonely as never before, and you almost cried in the dark before taking a hold of yourself and entering the building. There were no girls with the cameras today.

Laying on your bed, you stared at the glass of water on your nightstand. You didn’t even remember refilling it in the morning. How much did you remember at all before arriving at work?

Oh no, you weren’t going to live like that anymore. No more working overtime. No more fast food. No more weeping in your room with the lights off. You were a decent human being who didn’t deserve to live like a recluse. Tomorrow evening you were going to dress up and go for a glass of wine in that little restaurant you were passing by every day. And in the weekend it would be good to give a call to your cousin and ask for a visit.

You hummed, looking at the clock glimming in the darkness of the room. It was already midnight, but you didn’t feel even a bit sleepy. It was odd. Staring at the ceiling, you tried counting sheep but failed miserably after two hundreds. It was then when you heard someone’s footsteps behind your door and chewed your lips. Was it Mrs. Abebe who lived next to you? She was never coming that late. Not that you remembered.

You were probably imagining things since the sound of footsteps died, but you didn’t hear anyone opening the door or, in fact, moving at all. You were simply tired from all that stress.

That was what you were thinking when you heard someone inserting the key into your lock. You stilled, your eyes almost popping out of the sockets. What was happening? What was that?

Then the sound of the lock opening made you jump.

“Who is that?!” You screamed at the top of your voice and grabbed the lamp from your nightstand. “Who’s there?!”

Then everything went silent once again, the door still closed in front of you. You couldn’t hear any footsteps, couldn’t feel anyone’s presence just behind the door as if no one tried to force it open just a few seconds ago. You didn’t know how much time you spent standing there, a heavy lamp in your hands to strike down the intruder, but no one had opened the door.

In the end, you clenched your teeth and slowly moved forward, pressing your ear to the cold metal - there were no sounds coming behind it whatsoever. Then you glanced through the peephole and saw only a row of doors just like yours. The stranger was gone.

You couldn’t sleep after that, of course. You locked the door again, moved your heavy drawer to block it, and started calling the cops. Whoever was it, a thief or some creep, you didn’t want to sit there and wait when someone gonna break into your apartment.

Police did nothing, of course. There were no cameras in the corridor to check whether someone was truly walking there, and, except that, they could help little with your situation. The camera outside showed no one entering the building, too.

In fact, they were so skeptical after hearing your story they almost made you cry. Why would anyone want to break in? You had pretty much nothing valuable except for a few gadgets and a little bit of money.

“No one would risk coming close to the place where Steve Rogers lives, ma'am,” one of the cops informed you, irritated at your persistence. “You probably imagined it in your sleep.”

No, you didn’t. You heard it with your own ears, and no policeman could make you doubt that. You didn’t care whether that freak was afraid of Steve Rogers, you just needed to be safe.

Next morning you didn’t go to work. Instead you called a locksmith company and looked through all those smart lock that cost a fortune, but they were so much better than the pathetic one you had. The guy you were speaking to informed you that, actually, you story wasn’t uncommon - New York was full of burglars. He calmed you down a bit by saying that it was probably some rookie who didn’t ever hear about Captain America living in the same building.

The smart keyless lock you got installed was pricey but offered a great protection, the guy claimed. As you still shook from what happened earlier, you called your cousin, nevertheless, and went to live in her place for the whole week. Just thinking of what could happen to you that night brought you nightmares.

Who was that? What did that person need from you? Was he really hoping to get anything valuable without even knowing who lived there? Why did they come at night and not during the day when you were at work? God, you were scared to learn the answers.

You were no longer walking the streets alone as your kind cousin brought you to and off work, watching that no one was following you. It was a great relief to know there were no scary dudes around, but you couldn’t be calm still. You barely slept at night.

Your cousin was too worried to let you go and live by yourself again even with the new lock installed, so you decided to stay with her for one more week. You just needed to get a few more things from your apartment since last time you left in haste. Of course, you didn’t go there alone, your cousin and two of her male friends coming with you just in case something was to happen.

You screamed when you saw your new lock smashed to pieces, its black plastic parts laying on the floor right in front of your door.

This time police couldn’t say anything about you imagining things, and the investigation had finally started. What scared you even more was that Mrs. Abebe had sweared the lock was in perfect condition when she returned home yesterday, and she didn’t hear anything at all last night, a few other neighbors saying the same. No one knew how it happened and who could it be.

“But I just don’t understand how could someone try this right under Captain’s nose.” One of the policemen huffed and puffed.

“Steven Rogers has been on a mission since last week.” A woman said angrily, watching the guy with disgust. You vaguely remembered her name was Kate and she lived on the same floor as Steve. “Please don’t tell me you need Captain America just to make you do your job.”

With so many people expecting someone to break into their homes and fearing for their lives, it was easier to demand installing cameras in the corridors everywhere in the building. More than that, a few cameras were installed in your apartment too. A new biometric lock was now attached to your door, but you weren’t sure it could keep you safe. It all felt unreal.

Of course, you were living with your cousin. She not only didn’t protest against it, but refused to let you go anywhere at all. The only place you were still coming to was the office your worked in, and she was bringing you there and driving you home all the time.

The police said that the criminal didn’t leave any fingerprints anywhere, and, most importantly, they didn’t see any stranger entering the house the day your lock was smashed. It probably meant it was someone who stayed in the building. When they said that, Mrs. Abebe moved out the apartment the very same day and came to live with her son. You felt both pity and guilt. If you weren’t there, she could live in that place peacefully like before.

Although the stranger didn’t show up, the old policeman handling your case said something was very wrong there, he could feel it in his bones. This person wasn’t a simple burglar, for sure. Although the policeman asked you to come back to your apartment - of course, under the watchful eyes of his team ready to defend you - to somehow provoke the criminal, you didn’t agree. You valued your life too much to become a bait.

You just wanted to keep living with your cousin, especially when you were finally able to sleep again. You still felt groggy after, but you didn’t consider it too important after all that happened to you.

However, you had to change your mind when one day you woke up and saw the toilet seat up. There was no man living at your cousin’s place, and she didn’t let anyone come over for a week at least.

The stranger had found you. He sneaked into the house all the same like before, but now it was also your cousin’s life at stake, not just yours.

You cried and wept and prayed until you were a complete mess, your head heavy from the shouting. It wasn’t a burglar who followed you - it was a stalker. The policemen were deeply concerned with the truth, but they gave you hope - stalkers rarely left their victim under such circumstances, and they were most certain they would capture the intruder the next time this psycho showed up.

You agreed to return to your old apartment. What else was there to do to keep your dear cousin safe?

It was as empty and silent as before, but now the atmosphere turned sinister. You were afraid to touch your own things, thinking of the sick bastard who touched them - the one who touched _you_ in your sleep. No one had told you about it, but you were certain this person had been there with you many times before you caught him. Your routine had been very much the same during the whole year, and they knew it and used it to their advantage. Your stalker had seen you, touched you, done something to you. He was there all the time, and you didn’t know. The cameras police installed showed everything that was happening in the apartment except for bathroom, so you tried to avoid going there as much as you could. Yes, you were on display all the time, but you weren’t ashamed. You were ecstatic that cops were watching you every goddamn second.

When it was time to get to bed, you were too nervous. The police expected your stalker to show up, and although you had acquired the gun, you didn’t feel safe even the slightest bit. Holding the heavy piece of metal in your shaking hand, you gulped down water from the glass and layed on the bed, watching the door. No one would hurt you. You had a gun, a group of cops waiting right next door, and your cousin who rented a room in a hotel next to your building. You were safe. You just had to stay awake before this sick motherfucker showed up.

But when he did, you slept very soundly with your head on the pullow, your gun on the bed sheets close to you.

When you woke up, that morning became your worst nightmare. Your gun was gone. The toilet seat was up again.

How outrageous you had been when you found out all your supposed guards had fallen asleep last night, drugged by something they didn’t even know. Of course, there was nothing on the cameras. In fact, there were no cameras left in your apartment and the corridor whatsoever because your stalker had them all removed without even showing himself. How did they do it? What superhuman being did they had to be to twist both the police and you around their finger?

Well, maybe it was exactly the case. This intruder was too extraordinary. What if it wasn’t you they were after? What if they were really trying to challenge Captain’s America authority? And you were just unlucky enough to become a victim. You were picked most likely because you had a routine you had been following for a long time, and it made you an easy target. In the end, this intruder didn’t rape you. He didn’t hurt you. He didn’t steal from you. He was coming to, what, lay close to you on the bed? Put up a toilet seat? No, it wasn’t your attention he was after. He wanted to be acknowledged by the hero everyone was crazy about. Maybe he was like those girls who kept making the photos of Steve’s balkony.

Once the realization hit you, everything became so much better. If he wanted the attention of Captain America, he would get it, Kate had assured you. How did she discover what was happening and how she could make him aware of your situation you didn’t know, but soon those scary men dressed in black were walking the corridors of the building instead of policemen. Cameras were set up again while you were guarded at all times. Captain was returning tomorrow, you were told.

They wanted you to stay in the apartment, still. Actually, they clearly implied that you’d be put there regardless of your own wish because it was for the best. They were not some incompetent policemen, they said. You’d be protected regardless of what was going to happen to your stalker. This time you were ready to believe them - these guys looked like they could crack man’s skull with just one hand - but your cousin insisted you had to do something, too. Funny enough, she gave you a teddy bear and told there’s camera inside it. You could see everything it recorded with your phone.

Well, it couldn’t hurt, could it? You placed the bear on one of the shelves just to make her feel better.

But nothing happened during the night. For some reason, you slept like a rock again, but there was no indication the intruder had been in your apartment. You called your new guards, and they confirmed everything was clear. They were confused with your sleeping habits, though. It was odd you could sleep so soundly during such moments.

Well, maybe that was it. Captain America was coming today, and now the intruder knew they were going to have his full attention. Maybe it was enough for them, and you would be set free after all those weeks of torture.

“I still can’t believe he didn’t show up last night.” You said nervously and wiped your forehead with the back of your hand. “I know it’s stupid, but I feel like someone’s going to jump at me when I’ll be leaving the building.”

“It’s not stupid.” Your cousin sounded concerned. “You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met. I’d ask all those guys to go fuck themselves if they wanted me to spend one more minute in that place.”

“I know, I know.” You forced a smile as if she could see you. “But nothing happened, you see? I really think that… person wanted Captain, not me.”

“You can’t know it for sure, honey. You have to be careful before they catch that motherfucker, ok?”

“Yeah, yeah. I promise.”

“Good. I’m going to buy some food, so I’ll give you a call in half an hour.”

“Sure! Please take care too.”

“Of course!”

She hung up, and you were left alone with your thoughts again. You stared down your phone, thinking about all the things that happened to you. You wanted to know who was doing it to you more than anything else. Who was that person? The police said it was most likely to be a man in his thirties. What was his name? How did he look? What made him do all these things to you? Did he mock you for your stupidity when you didn’t even realize he was always so close to you all that time?

Rubbing your eyes, you thought of the cameras and that teddy bear sitting on a shelf. Suddenly, you got curious how you looked in your sleep, what that intruder saw when he entered your apartment late at night. You opened the app on your phone without a second thought and pressed your finger to the screen to see the recording.

It was peaceful. You didn’t snore and didn’t move on the bed, laying there as if you were dead. Your drool wasn’t running onto the pillow, and you were oddly glad you almost looked like a sleeping beauty. Well, at least at night your face didn’t look so tired.

Then you saw the door on your screen moving. You chocked on air, staring at the tall muscular man entering your apartment so carelessly like he lived here too. What was this? How could it happen? They said no one entered your apartment last night. They said no one was even close to your door!

The man was wearing a cap that didn’t allow you to look at his face, a dark blue bomber and jeans flattering his muscular figure. He was even bigger than those men guarding you, and you gasped when he stared directly into the camera as if he knew there was one in the teddy bear your cousin brought. But nothing shocked you as much as the face of the stalker.

It was Steve Rogers, the very same Captain America everyone loved and respected. He took of his shoes quietly and then left his bomber on the rack. When he turned his face to the camera, he was smiling and walking closer to it slowly like a predator knowing its prey couldn’t escape.

He took the stuffed animal in his hands and brought it closer.

“I’m so glad you’re watching, honey.”

You whimpered, a tear running down your face. No, it couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t. He was supposed to be the hero, not some deranged stalker ruining your life.

“Sorry for being later than usual, but you’ve made it a bit harder for me, you know that?” His smile was so sweet it could make you think he’s talking to his fiancee, not some girl he was stalking for god knew how many months. “But don’t worry, I’m not blaming you. I know it’s been tough for you too, honey.”

He glanced back at you sleeping on your bed and came closer to you. You held your breath and clamped a hand over your mouth in horror.

“It’s actually my fault because I shouldn’t be doing this before marrying you… but I just couldn’t help myself. You’re not mad at me, are you?” You realized he was laying down the bed with a teddy bear in his hand, and then you saw him kissing your forehead. “I know you’re not. Thank you, sweetheart.”

Looking at your phone with terrified and tearful eyes, you felt like you couldn’t take it anymore, but something inside you forced you to keep watching when Steve had gently lowered the straps of your top and planted an open-mouthed kiss on your neck, massaging your breast. You wanted to drop the phone to the floor, to throw it out the window, to break it against the wall, yet all you did was gawking at the recording with watery eyes and sobbing. He was insane. You saw it in his eyes - he wasn’t going to question his own actions. Steve Rogers was sure he did the right thing when he broke into your apartment.

“You probably gonna have some questions when you’ll see the recording.” He continued as he put the toy on the bed to make you see better all the things he was doing to you. “You have never woken up at night because I’ve been giving you some medicine, but don’t worry, it’s perfectly organic and doesn’t do any harm to your body.” You felt your stomach twisting. “Sometimes if you forgot to drink water from the glass I had to press a cloth dampened in chloroform to your face. I don’t like doing it, so please remember to stay hydrated before going to bed, honey.”

You wailed like a child, rubbing your eyes with one hand and having a phone in the other. Why was it happening to you? What had you done? You had never met Steve Rogers in the first place. How did he know about your mere existence?

“But I won’t need to keep doing it since our honeymoon is so close. Once we get married, we won’t have to do anything like that anymore. I know you’re tired of waiting, and I’m sorry I couldn’t make it earlier.” He kissed the top of your head and inhaled the scent of your hair. “We’ll be leaving tomorrow. As for tonight, you’d have to sleep alone, but I’ll be right here with you, so please don’t worry.”

Confused, you saw him moving with the teddy bear in his hand - the man left your bed and put the straps of your top back on your shoulders, covering your body with a blanket. He kissed your cheek one last time before returning the stuffed animal to its place and putting his bomber and shoes back on, but then…

Then he layed down on the floor and got under your bed. Though you kept watching the recording, you saw nothing else before the sun rose and you started waking up finally. You played the video further on, but nothing was happening still except you walking out to meet those men who were supposed to keep you safe. When you came back, you ate your breakfast and called your cousin.

You dropped your phone on the bed and stared at your legs, shaking so much your knees were knocking together.

_He was still waiting for you under your bed._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I want to say thank you to all of you who liked and commented the story! I'm very sorry I didn't have time to reply to all of comments, but please know I'm very grateful for your support!

Your instincts were telling you to ran and shout and scream until somebody would be aware that you were trapped in your own room with a psycho beneath your bed. You needed to get out and find your cousin before it was too late, before he took you away like he promised and did to you whatever his sick mind was telling him to.

Strangely, your legs were not moving as if you lost control over your own body. You were shaking feverishly, but you couldn't force youself to stand up.

Wasn't it too late already? He knew who you were. He knew who your cousin was. He knew all the places where you could hide and all your relatives who would try helping you. How easy would it be for him to kill them all? He was Steve Rogers, the man who had never failed. If he didn't get you now, he'd make sure to tear your world apart in revenge.

You tried moving your legs but failed miserably again. Did your own body betray you? Was it Captain who gave you more of his medicine?

You were stuck here. There was no way out.

"S-steve?" You whispered, bending down a bit and looking at your feet.

When he touched your ankle with his cold hand, a ragged scream ripped from your throat - you were watching him getting out from under your bed like a spider, a mutilated monster, a nightmare in a form of a man. You landed on the floor with a heavy thud, trying to get away from him, crawling to the door, but Steve was already on top of you, injecting another medicine with syringe into your neck. Though he didn't finish yet, you already felt your body freezing. You were getting cold, your eyelids heavy. You thought it was the end when you closed your eyes, listening to Steve's loud heartbeat right above you.

Of course, it wasn't the end. He didn't plan on murdering you now; he only wanted to take you to the other location where you would be safe and sound with him. He'd prefer you to stay conscious, but you had enough stress already with that unhealthy lifestyle of yours, too much work on your shoulders, and lack of sympathy from the people surrounding you. Steve couldn't demand too much from you - you needed some rest.  
_____________

The awakening was torturous. Your neck hurt badly from the rough injection, and your head was spinning. You felt like you were on a ship constantly rocked by the waves only to discover you were laying on a bed in a simple room, not a cabin. You didn't recognize this dark empty place, but it was the least of your worries. 

You couldn't feel your body below waist.

Moving your fingers, you weakly grabbed the blanket that covered your body, feeling the soft cotton texture. Your arms lost their strength, but they still felt like a part of you. But your legs... regardless how much you were shaking, your body refused to move even the slightest bit. It was like your lower half wasn't intact anymore. Like somebody cut you in half.

No. No, please, no. _NO!_

"Shh, honey." His quiet voice cut through the heavy silence, and you find him sitting in the corner of the room in complete darkness. "Please don't stress yourself. It's not good for your health."

You'd laugh at his words if you could, but you weren't able to force even a single sound out of your mouth. He did something to your body. He broke your spine. He made your legs completely useless to you. He made it so you would never leave him, unable to walk.

When Steve got up from his place, you looked at him with pure horror, your eyes filled with tears and open so wide it hurt. He had a concerned expression, watching you tremble with fear. Wasn't he supposed to be happy because he had finally caught you? 

The closer he came, the more your teeth chattered almost to the point of breaking. He had taken away your legs. He broke you and he would keep doing it more and more because no one was going to save you from America's most favourite hero. You would die in agony in his hands because he wanted you to.

"Everything is going to be alright, darling." His hand brushed against your forehead, and you whimpered, a thread of saliva running down your cheek from your half-open mouth. You couldn't make yourself speak to him, too shocked and frightened to death. "We're almost there. It's going to take one more day or so, and then we will finally settle down. You don't need to worry about anything."

_I don't want to die. I don't want to die. I don't want to die._

His eyes watched your madly shaking figure, and Steve reached out to take your frozen palm in his. 

"Why didn't you tell me you're cold, honey?" He frowned and stood up immediately, making you let out a little cry. "Wait a second, I'll give you more blankets."

Blankets. As if you needed any. As if you cared about your body that wasn't functioning properly, half of it just a useless piece of meat now. You felt like you couldn't breathe anymore, gasping for air and feeling like somebody squeezed your lungs with a stony arm. 

Steve had returned from the other side of the room shortly with a pile of blankets and carefully unfolded them one by one, covering you with several layers. When he saw you choking, his hands flew to your chest, but your eyes were already rolling back from the lack of oxygen. It didn't take you long to go into the great darkness, sinking into it, feeling nothing at all, even the man's shouting quickly fading away.

It took you even more time before you awoke the next day, your body aching from staying in one position for long, apparently. You were feeling groggy again just like all those mornings in your apartment when your life seemed so boring and uneventful to you. Little did you know, it was heavenly comparing to the complete nightmare you were living in now.

You suddenly realized you could curl your toes on your right foot. And then on the left one too. Your hips felt warm under that huge and heavy comforter. 

You could feel. You could feel your lower body.

Then you were crying so hard that at one point you became afraid of being suffocated in your own tears. Steve Rogers didn't break your spine. He did something to you, but your body recovered, nevertheless. Oh, you were strong. You were so strong. He would have hard time trying to break you.

Your euphoria was slowely going away with every minute you spent in solitude in that pretty little room with floral walls. It was the complete opposite of the dark place you woke up after being kidnapped - the new room was furnished very nicely, way better than your own apartment stuffed with cheap things straight from Ikea's sales, and it smelled like roses. Was there a vase with flowers somewhere? It could be. That sick psycho was still playing the role of your loving fiancee.

Wait. Was he under your bed? WAS HE UNDER YOUR BED?

Caring little for the noise you made, you leaned down and lost your grip on the headboard, falling to the floor. You hissed in pain, but then saw there was no one hiding beneath and let out a loud sigh. Relief washed over you. Steve wasn't there. You were completely and utterly alone in the room.

You spent some time listening to any sounds, but you didn't hear anything at all. If Steve was somewhere close, he decided not to show up just yet. 

Trying to move as quietly as you could, you got back on your bed and glanced over the room - it was so girly with light pink bed sheets, pillows, chair's upholstery and even a carpet. There was a beautiful vintage vanity with a large mirror - lifting your head, you caught a glimpse of yourself and quickly laid back. You weren't ready to see that just yet.

It was light as day here, but you didn't find any windows. You doubted he would give you a chance to escape through one, and you heart sank at the realization: it wouldn't be surprising if he locked you somewhere underground. Maybe he didn't chop off your legs, yet he took away your opportunity to run away, nonetheless.

Anyway, you could still cry from happiness knowing you were able to walk. It felt like the biggest present somebody could give you.

You didn't know how much time you spent there, staring at the white ceiling and imagining Steve Rogers waiting with an axe behind your door. You didn't hear any sounds whatsoever, even the clock if there was any in the room. Slowly, you started moving your legs again and then clenching your fists real tight. You were in full control of your body, and you wept a little at the thought.

Soon you lifted the comforter and stepped on the pink carpet. Did he put floor heating in here? Your feet felt oddly warm. 

Dropping your gaze to your pink silk pyjamas after that, you almost threw up in both disgust and fear. Did that sick pervert do anything to you when you were unconscious? You glanced at the door nervously and took off your top, covering yourself with the comforter in a second. Then you looked at your skin, touching your neck, your breasts and your arms: as far as you could see, there were no marks on your body. It didn't hurt. After that you put the top back on and took off your pants, repeating the same manipulation and finding nothing. Good. He didn't rape you, at least. He couldn't hide this with whatever medication he forced you to take.

Watching youself in a mirror, you wiped a tear running down your cheek. Well, you didn't look as bad as you expected. Certainly not _that_ bad, even after all those horrible things that happened to you.

You searched the room for anything that could help you protect youself but found bothing, not even a pen. You tried grabbing a lamp from your nightstand like the last time, but, apparently, it was glued to the surface. Anyway, how would you protect yourself with it against Captain America? He could break your body in half with his bare arms, and he certainly could have more syringes with whatever fucking drugs he used on you.

You had to go with empty hands. You cringed at the thought, but moved on regardless. 

The door was unlocked, and you threw a quick glance at the corridor before stepping away and waiting for Steve to storm into the room. He wasn't there, still, and you swallowed the knot in your throat before opening the door wider with your shaking hands. The dark grey - or green, you weren't sure - colour of the corridor walls made you feel nauseated. It was so much different comparing to the pretty room you woke up in. These walls, however, looked like the walls of a prison.

Was it prison? Had that room ever been a cell before? You covered your mouth with your palm and tried to pull yourseld together. No, it wasn't the right time to vomit. You needed to move.

The room you walked out just now was in the middle of a very long corridor with doors to your left and right. With a lack of light you saw poorly, but you were sure there were no people, at least. After you spent a bit more time standing there to give your eyes time to adjust, you realized that this place had to be huge - the corridor was _abnormally_ long.

Having no clue where to move, you went to your left, feeling very disturbed by the huge difference between the corridor's and your room's appearances. If Steve spent so much money and efforts decorating that place with beautiful furniture and other pieces of interior, why he didn't care to do it anywhere else? Was the room you woke up in the only decent one here?

Oh, you didn't want to open one more door. Breathing heavily, you were covered with cold sweat as you reached for the door knob and softly pushed it, jumping back to the wall beside you.

No sound, no movement, nothing.

Tears were clouding your vision, and you spent one more minute trying to wipe them off before you gathered enough strength to move further. The room you opened was a bedroom just like yours, but not so girly - the walls were covered with light green color, yet the furniture looked as exquisite as in your room. No vanity, however, and nothing to give you at least some protection too. You moved forward.

All those rooms looked pretty fantastic, you had to admit with displeasure. They all were comfortable and completely new.

You stumbled upon more bedrooms, several living rooms, a dozen of restrooms, a walk-in closet, two kitchens and an almost empty cabinet. Although all of them varied in size, you still saw no windows anywhere. And when you found a nursery you cried hard, clenching the fabric of your pyjamas with your teeth.

This place was a maze with more corridors and God knew how many rooms. You had no idea how Rogers could have this house - or whatever it was - running. Well, with his position of Avengers' leader he probably had a fortune to spend.

Oddly enough, all rooms looked pretty as pictures, but not the corridor. It was ugly in every part of the house as if you were supposed to be repulsed to even step outside the room. Maybe it was his intention, you thought. The other strange thing was that Steve was nowhere to be found - you checked every goddamn bed and sofa he could be under, but saw only a dusty floor. Where was he? Wasn't he supposed to be here with you? Not that you objected, though.

You felt tired and hungry after your long jorney. There was food neither in the kitchen nor in any other room, and your stomach hurt at the thought of chicken nuggets. You'd give up anything for your usual McDonalds meal.

Before you chewed your lips thinking of hot French fries, you heard the distant sound of the door opening - a very heavy door. Probably a metal one. 

You were in a bedroom you discovered at last without even realizing what you were doing. The thought of Steve coming to assault you, kill you, and dismember your body caused you to have a panic attack when you were getting behind a huge chair standing in the corner of a room. You couldn't hear anything but the blood pounding in your brain. You didn't remeber whether your screamed or not when the man entered.

Dragging you out the corner you were tucked in, he pushed your head into his chest and then put you onto the bed gently, holding your arms in his when you struggled and kicked involuntarily, not realizing what was happening as the world spin around you. He reached out for his pocket and took out one more syringe - you saw it later as he left it on the nightstand while you were laying on the bed with your body going limp again. But after taking away your strengh, the drug made you regain your sanity instead.

You were laying under the blue blanket, Steve sitting close to you and watching you with a sickly sweet smile of his as he caressed your hair with his hot palm. A few grocery bags were dropped to the floor near him, and you saw a pack of dark red cherry tomatoes almost falling out.

"You must have been scared to be all alone in such huge place. I'm sorry I wasn't waiting for you to wake up in your room, dear." His face lit up when you looked at him, chewing your lips to bits from fear and all that tension, your body pretty mich useless again. "I give you my word to become more considerate in the future. By the way, did you have a good look at our house? You got pretty far."

Pretty damn far. The entrance must have been so close.

You couldn't make youself speak to him again, so you simply nodded, weakly grasping the blanket in your trembling hands. Well, at least you could still feel your own body.

"I wasn't sure what you would like, so I just... filled the space, I guess. Of course, we can make any changes you think are necessary."

Changes? Oh yeah, like having windows and ten times less rooms, not even talking about that obviously thick door preventing you from leaving.

"You'll think about it later. How do you feel now, honey?" His shamelessly pretty eyes looked at you almost innocently, and you felt something like anger rising in your chest. "You will have to take some pills before coming into norm, I have them all here. Nothing that could harm your health, of course! They were prescribed by a very good doctor. The best I could find."

You were close to weeping, listening to Steve talking. You were under his full control again, and of he wanted to break a few of your bones, he could do so easily since you were barely able to move again. 

"I'm better." You managed to whisper and shut your mouth when Steve smiled at you, rubbing circles on the back of your hand with his thumb.

"Good. I was getting worried about your constant anxiety. I've told you so many times your lifestyle isn't good for your health, darling! Why have you never listened to me?"

God, he was a madman while you were confined to bed. Your chances to stay alive were miserable.

"I'm sorry, d... dear." You basically pushed these words out of your throat, afraid to make Steve upset. "I will do better."

"I'm glad you heard me out." You shivered and closed your eyes when he leaned closer and dropped a kiss to your forehead.

You expected him to get away and sit straight, but Steve didn't. His face was inches away from yours, and you were afraid to look at him knowing you'd see nothing but the frenzy in his eyes. Captain America was long gone. Someone else had taken his place, and that someone wasn't a good guy ready to sacrifice himself to save his people.

Listening to his erratic breath, you tried to prepare yourself for the end. That was it, right? He'd take that syringe and plunge it into the socket of your eye or into your carotid artery any second. You could feel his madness showing itself on his face even with your eyes closed.

"Why won't you look at me, sweetheart?" His kind voice made you shook. "Come on, open your eyes."

You refused, still. What did it matter?

His breath burned your ear when he spoke next time.

"If you're so willing to run away from me, do you want to play a game?" Steve planted a kiss on your cheek and smiled when you finally opened your eyes. "It's an easy one. Do you like hide and seek?"

You gulped down, watching him like a dangerous animal ready to plunge its fangs into your soft flesh.

"I'll give you ten minutes, and you have to run and hide from me. If I won't find you soon, I'll let you go." His gentle smile was quickly turning sinister while you were left gasping for air. "But if I am going to catch you, I will..."

"No."

He stopped talking and stilled, watching you with wide eyes. The pure confusion on his face looked strange - he didn't understand what you were trying to do.

"I'm not a child." You said, watching him with determination emerging out of nowhere as you spoke. "I don't like these games and I'm tired. I wanna see a movie, Steve."

Was his madness contagious? You certainly felt so, giving him what sounded pretty much like an order. No, you wouldn't play his sick games just to end up mutilated and broken. You'd play yours. You felt so bold and intent to resist him after dreading torture and death so many times. It was like that syringe injected some magic potion into your body, leaving your mind free of fear. What there was for you to lose, anyway? 

"Of course, honey! I'm so, so sorry. Of course, you're a grown woman, and it was silly of me to offer you this." He looked... apologetic? Bewildered? Ashamed? "Let me take you to the living room... yes, like that, darling. You're doing so good."

Lifting you in his arms, Steve showed you that warm smile of his once more and carried you away, humming some melody. You put a hand on his chest and listened to his heartbeat that was quickly slowing down. You just escaped your own death, probably. Maybe being a little crazy would actually help you survive.

Once you got an opportunity, you would slit his throat the very first night, you thought.


End file.
